polaris
by bluestoplights
Summary: Fake Dating/Canon Divergence AU / Emma is trying to get her parents off her back when it comes to her love life. Killian is all too willing to help.


_**A/N: Two tropey oneshots in two days. This one really got away from me, I was originally just intending this to be a lot shorter BUT it was half-finished and I was feeling suddenly inspired. So have some faking dating canon divergence! I don't think that's a common thing, at least? I mean, if it is, I haven't read it yet. This is mainly insanely fluffy because I miss season 3 so damn much.**_

 _ **Also, all of this is Amber's fault. ALL OF IT.**_

-/-

Crisis averted.

That seems to be a similar theme, these days.

The curse - miraculously - seems to have been prevented right as the purple clouds started to come near the town line. Emma summons every ounce of magic she had, wishing and wishing that she doesn't have to leave the town, her family, and the life she'd come to love.

And then, she doesn't have to.

Even if she has magic, she still doesn't fucking understand it.

Her mother and father's knees about buckle with relief as she turns around to embrace the both of them and Emma isn't faring much better. She's home. There isn't really any going back from that, there'd still be a feeling in the pit of her stomach even if she did manage to escape from Storybrooke without her memories.

"We don't have to lose you again," Mary Margaret marvels into her shoulder and it's all Emma can do not to start crying again. The emotional highs and lows in such a short period of time are starting to really get to her. David's hand comes to cup her head reverently and for a second it's all she can do to rock in her parents' arms. She only extracts herself to let Henry embrace his grandparents.

She turns around to face Hook, who grins broadly at her. "Saved us all from a curse, again, haven't you, savior?"

Emma laughs a little breathlessly. She leans in to hug him, overcome with emotion and giddy. He makes a slight sound in the back of his throat, surprised, but catches on quickly. Hook wraps both arms around her, nuzzling a bit into her hair and laughing right along with her.

He holds her so tightly - so gratefully - it's as if the fear of them being cursed away from each other struck a powerful cord in him. She wonders, idly, how long it's been since someone hugged him.

Emma meets Neal's eyes over Hook's shoulder and quickly loses her mirth. She leans out of his arms, reluctantly, to approach Neal.

"I'm sorry about your dad," she says, because that's the kind of thing you're supposed to say in these kinds of situations.

(Even though his father just tried to kill their son not even two days ago.)

"He died for the town," Neal mutters, distractedly. "Made up for his sins so that we could live our lives."

"I'm just relieved that we can, now," Emma replies, unsure of what else to say.

"Yeah," Neal exhales, thoughtfully, hopefully. "We can."

Emma's face falls, at that. The implications of his words aren't lost on her.

-/-

Things simplify over the next few weeks. There are no more curses, no more evil villains, no more lost family members with ulterior motives. The last two categories may as well be the same one, it seems all of the evil villains are related to her or her son, somewhere along the line.

They don't talk about that in the fairytale books. Well, excluding the one Henry has.

She still has to help her son cope with the being possessed by his great-grandfather and try to help the town rebound from said great-grandfather's sudden appearance (God - how is this a sentence that she even has to think?). The last thing she needs is anyone to complicate the situation any further. Emma doesn't see much more of Hook since the curse almost hit, only runs into him occasionally and accidentally on occasions when he stops by Granny's or when she goes to the docks to clear her head.

All he does is greet her and run off, as if he's in a hurry to be somewhere. Emma can't help but be a little annoyed.

(Any developing feelings towards a pirate captain that's upwards of 200 years old and switched to the good side to help her find her son? That's a complication.)

It's one day where she's at Granny's with her parents - celebrating some occasion or another, likely the ongoing streak of things not turning to shit in the town - when Neal decides to make his next move.

"Emma," he greets, sliding across from her at the booth she's sitting at. "Hey."

"Hey," she replies with a sigh. The last few weeks have been hard on him, given his dad's sudden streak of martyrdom, so Emma has been treading carefully. He doesn't deserve her being an asshole to him. "What's up?"

"Not much," Neal shrugs. "I just thought that...maybe because things have calmed down we could talk about going out to lunch like we talked about before the curse almost hit?"

"Listen, Neal," Emma sighs in something like exasperation, "I'll always love you, you know that, right?"

"Then I'm not seeing what the problem is," he frowns. "I know with everything that's happened - between us and everything since then - that it's hard for you to let anyone in. I get that. It's my fault and I'm sorry."

"No," she shakes her head vehemently. "you don't get it, Neal. I'll always love you, but not in the way that I used to. I can't. Not after all that happened. I want to be your friend, Neal, but I just don't think we're good for each other as it is now."

He nods, in careful understanding. "Alright. I'm sorry."

"Me too," she says, as he walks away from the booth.

Mary Margaret's timing is, as usual, impeccable.

"What happened?" she asks Emma, sounding concerned.

"Nothing," Emma sighs, burying her head in her hands.

"Why did Neal leave?" her eyes go to his retreating back.

"Because I told him I didn't want to try again," Emma says, honestly.

"You should really give him another chance," Mary Margaret insists plaintively. "I know things must not have ended on the best of terms between the two of you the first time around, but you still care about him. I know you do. And he still cares about you. If there's anything I've learned, it's that you have to fight for love."

She can't tell her. She can't tell her mother that Neal left her in a jail cell pregnant with his kid - whether he knew it or not - because a man afraid of turning into a wooden boy told him to. Emma can't tell her about the watches, about the keychain only being a shitty souvenir because she's never been able to drive out her sentimentalism thanks to the baby blanket that was all parents left her, about - really - any of it. Her mother is the type of person who relies on hope more than anything. Shattering her faith in first love or true love or whatever the hell she wants to call it just seems selfish, after everything. And Neal, as complicated as their relationship was, doesn't deserve the kind of wrath that she'd likely incur from her parents if she told them the gory details of what really happened. He just lost his father, he doesn't need the wrath of hers.

Basically, what she wants to do is protect everyone. As reluctantly as she accepted the savior title, she took it to heart. If Emma can't even protect the feelings of the people she cares about most, then what good really is she?

"I'm gonna go," Emma says, instead.

-/-

Emma winds up with her back flat on a bench by the docks, staring up at the sky and pondering her current, shitty state of affairs.

Even when the town is relatively calm, she can't have time to just _relax._

"Swan?" she hears a familiar voice call out her name.

Emma exhales shakily, sitting up to meet Hook's eyes where he stands in front of her.

"Rough night?" he questions, one of his eyebrows raising.

"You could say that," she mutters, sitting up. "Storybrooke nearly escaped two curses and yet I'm sitting here on a bench contemplating how to flee."

"Flee?" Hook repeats dubiously, looking from her to the port. "Should I be worried that you'll commandeer my ship in order to do so?"

"No," she snorts.

"Well, if there's anyone in this town who I'd trust to steal her, it'd be you," he chuckles, shaking his head. "I've said that you'd make a hell of a pirate, haven't I?"

"Must be nice," she mutters, twining her hands in her lap, "being able to be selfish and not have to worry about everything under the sun."

"Pirates always worry about their treasure, love," he notes, eyeing her with concern. "You want to tell me what's troubling you?"

Who else does she really have to talk to? What friends does she really have to pour her guts out to? Her parents, who keep on pushing her towards a man she doesn't want to be with and who she can't tell the truth to or else worry about both their feelings and Neal's? Her son, who she has the same problem with? Neal, who is a lot of her current problem? Ruby is more of her mother's friend than her's after the curse and Regina is out of the question thanks to her repeated attempts at murder.

Which leaves a man who may or may not (heavily leaning may, given his very clear statements on it, but she can live in denial a little longer) have feelings for her and who has already proven to be a good listener.

(When he's not wrestling over a lighter in an attempt to impress her.)

(Her relationships are _fucked_.)

"Can I trust you to be a neutral, third party observer?" she questions, carefully, moving over on the bench to make room for him. Emma already knows his answer and knows that it will be a lie, but it's reassuring nonetheless and she has nowhere else to turn.

He sits beside her, the leather of his coat resting against her legs. "You can trust me to be anything, Swan, but I'm afraid I can't promise my neutrality on anything if I don't know what it is."

If she says the words _'my love life'_ it'll be a guaranteed no. "What if it's a completely hypothetical situation?"

"I don't deal well in hypotheticals," Hook grimaces.

Emma sighs heavily. "Hypothetically, if a guy left you - well, not you, obviously, but...dammit. Anyway, if someone you loved left you to go to jail for their crime and you still cared about them but wanted nothing to do with them ever again romantically, but everyone kept on pushing you towards each other...how would you both get them to stop doing it without getting into detail of what happened?"

"Baelfire left you to rot in a cell?" Hook asks in disgust, fury evident in his tone. "And the lad - _you were with child when he did it?_ "

"You're really not good with the hypotheticals at all, are you?" Emma grumbles in a deadpan, standing up to leave. It's her mess, she was stupid to ask someone else in helping her deal with it. "Just forget about it, Hook."

"No," he interjects, grabbing her by the wrist. The move isn't rough, just enough to get her to turn around to look at him, "tell me, Emma. It's clearly been weighing on you. You've done enough for me, the least I can do is return the favor in whatever small way I can."

"You're the one who risked your neck to save Henry from Pan. You don't owe me anything"

"Aye, but you're the one who gave me a second chance I didn't likely bloody deserve," he replies lowly. "I dare say I owe you _everything_."

Emma gapes for a moment, unsure of how to even reply to that. "My parents, Mary Margaret in particular, keep trying to push me towards Neal. Keep saying that I have a second chance at love, or whatever. They tried getting me to go to lunch with him yesterday and I almost caved before everything went to hell."

He frowns, clearly torn. "And you, in the wake of what he's done, are not keen on mending sails?"

Emma makes a sour expression. "Sea metaphors, really?"

His lips twitch. "Pirate, love."

Emma sighs, heavily, moving on to answer his question. "It's not that I...it's not like I want to keep him from his son. That's not it. And it's not that I'm not happy he's alive,"

She pauses, then, swallowing and looking down at her hands. Emma thinks about telling Neal she wished he would have been dead because then it would have been easier than facing everything that happened and what an ugly person that made her. Hook doesn't need to hear that part, doesn't need to know that she isn't that much of a hero, after all. How could she after thinking something as selfish as that?

"I just can't act like nothing happened. I can't pretend that I'm 17 again and nothing bad happened. I'm a different person now. We're different people now. I still love him, in a way, but I just can't...I want Neal to be my friend, I guess. Not try to pick up where we left off."

Killian nods in understanding. "Why not just tell your parents the truth?"

"They'd hate him."

"And?"

"It'd crush Henry."

"Don't you think the lad deserves to know?"

"He just got possessed by someone you've repeatedly referred to as a demon. I think I can lay off right now on exposing him to any more emotional trauma."

"I think witnessing his mother slowly lose her mind because she's being subjected to unfair expectations - both by herself and the people around her - is more traumatic than being faced with the truth, love."

"You don't understand," Emma groans, burying her face in her hands. "It's more complicated than that."

Killian just lets out an exasperated sigh. "So, you'd like me to do nothing?"

"What can you do?" she asks resigned, not expecting an answer.

He frowns, staring at her for a minute as if he's toying with an idea. "I…I know I haven't exactly been subtle about my affection towards you, Swan."

She holds her breath, not knowing what the hell he's going to say next.

"And in the wake of all the recent pressures placed upon you, I don't intend on pressuring you to admit any feelings you may or may not have in turn. I don't need to be another cause of your stresses, love," he continues cautiously, staring at her all the while with a burning intensity.

He's so earnest, so understanding that it's hard for her to stop the words from coming out of her mouth. "It's not one sided, you know?"

Surprise crosses his face, at that, along with a little hope. "Swan, I just said I didn't intend to pressure yo-"

"Things have been crazy. Really, absurdly crazy between all the life and death situations and Henry and Pan and Gold and a bunch of residual shit and emotional scarring from everything else," she stammers, staring at her hands for a moment, "so I haven't exactly had the time to sort my feelings out. But I know as well as you do that we have...something."

Emma meets his eyes, at that. For a man who's usually unable to keep his mouth shut, he seems to be at loss for words.

He finds them, eventually. "I understand entirely, Swan. I confess, I was originally planning to back off because of Baelfire-"

"Ugh," she groans, "not you, too."

"I see now that that's not the case. Your breathing room, however, seems much more important," he amends with a twitch of his lips. "Take all the time you need, whatever you decide your feelings are."

"That doesn't mean we can't be friends, in the meantime," she replies, bumping her shoulder into his. "Does it? Or would you rather stick to reluctant allies?"

Hook just looks at her, something in his gaze she can't - doesn't want to - pinpoint. "No, I reckon it doesn't, lass. I'm anything but reluctant when it comes to you."

Emma smiles a little at that, in spite of herself.

"I guess I just have to live with the...Neal situation and hope Mary Margaret doesn't try to lock in a closet with him until we make out, or something. That would be another level of hell," she frowns, turning back to face the docks in front of her.

"Are you truly that concerned about your mother's matchmaking attempts?" he questions, seeming a little distracted.

"Please don't tell her," she insists, turning again to face him. "Seriously. Don't tell anyone."

Hook still looks conflicted. "I wasn't planning to, truthfully, not without your permission."

"Then what?"

He purses his lips, looking as if he's searching for the right words. "Perhaps your parents would be more receptive to your disinterest if you professed your interest in another man."

She narrows her eyes, trying to decipher what the hell he means. "You want to clarify that?"

"What I'm asking is if you'd like me to act as if we're romantically involved. I don't expect anything from you in the wake of that, if you decide that isn't what you want. I just thought that perhaps it could help you out of your predicament."

"You think we should...pretend to date?" she repeats, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"It's your choice," Hook adds quickly, toying with his namesake, "If you find it a preposterous idea, then - by all means - cast it aside. I was just trying to think of ways that I could help."

Emma almost sputters. Almost walks away right then and washes this entire exchange off her hands. It's a crazy idea. It won't work. It can't work. It would be unfair to him, for one, who has been so openly candid while her head is still so -

"Are you sure?" she asks, hesitant. "I don't know if...is that fair? To ask that of you?"

"I was the one who suggested it, love," he reassures her.

She thinks about it, for a minute, furrowing her brow in concentration and frowning.

It's actually not a bad idea.

"We're actually doing this," Emma says in disbelief. "We are actually going to do this."

"It appears so."

-/-

He insists, the next day, on becoming acclimated with the clothing of this realm (his words, of course). Par for the course in becoming the Savior's pretend paramour, apparently.

Killian - she has to get in the habit of calling him Killian instead of Hook - finds a leather jacket, shorter and much lighter, to replace his coat at one of Storybrooke's only clothing stores. Dark, tight-fitting jeans go in place of the leather pants. Leather vest? Meet dark, cotton vest. She tries to keep the same concept, just different fabrics.

(Really, Killian wore more damn leather than a dominatrix.)

(He asks her what she means when she mutters that under her breath, but all she does is shake her head and divert the subject.)

"How about this?" Emma asks, holding up a navy button down that doesn't look heinous. "Up to your standards?"

Killian eyes it contemplatively, quirking his head to the side as if he's studying the merit of a work of art rather than a goddamn shirt. He's like this with everything, she's noticed. The knots he ties for his sails, the detailed maps she's seen on his ship, even drilling a hole in a damn coconut.

"What? You want me to rip off the top half of the buttons?" she jokes, gesturing to his current attire and the increasingly low V of his shirt. "Will the chest hair be happy, then?"

"That depends," he retorts, tongue sticking out to lick his lips in a way that can only be described as obscene. "Will you tear them off while I'm wearing it?"

Emma rolls her eyes and throws the shirt towards him with a huff. "Get it. It matches your eyes."

He catches it and the tips of his ears go pink. "It does, aye?"

-/-

Shopping for clothes is the easy part. Revealing her new, lover-who-isn't-really-her-lover to her parents? Won't be.

They linger in the hallway, for a moment, before opening the door to the loft.

"We don't have to do this if you don't…" Emma starts,

"Swan, I told you I would," he says, firmly. "I'm a man of my word."

"This idea is insane, so I wouldn't blame you for -"

"Whose idea are you calling insane?" he questions, sounding more teasing than angry.

Her smile is a little tight when she squeezes his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Anytime, love."

She walks through the door, Killian at her heels. "Mom? Dad?"

"Hook," her father greets, looking a little bewildered. Snow is right beside him. "Nice to see you again. What brings you here?"

Hook looks to her, waiting for her permission. Emma takes in a deep breath.

"Killian and me are together," is what she says, but the words come out so rushed together that it sounds more like _"Killing a tether"_.

She isn't sure whether or not the confusion on her parents' faces are a result of what she actually said or the unintelligible sentence that just came out of her mouth. It may be a combination of both.

Killian sighs, meeting her eyes for a moment before trying valiantly to translate her words. "Emma and I are together."

Corrected her grammar, too. Typical.

David looks exasperated, but unsurprised. Mary Margaret looks as if someone just told her the Easter Bunny wasn't real, Santa was dead, and her firstborn daughter is dating Captain fucking Hook.

"Together," Snow manages to form the word with her lips, looking as if it's a very difficult task for her to perform. Defeating Peter Pan? No big deal. Repeating a word describing her and Hook? Pure torture. "Do you mean that as you're working together? To deal with everything after Neverland?"

Emma shakes her head, frowning. "I'm pretty sure Pan is gone."

"But," the corners of Snow's mouth tug downwards as she asks the question Emma just knew she would. "What about Neal?"

"I never wanted to get back together with Neal," Emma says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Why not?"

Because Neal left her in prison for his crime and he's the reason that I had to give my kid up, but I can't say any of that because I still feel like he's ultimately, at the end of the day a good guy and we really don't need to complicate our lives further. You understand, now?

It's ironic that this is her internal monologue, given that she is very quickly realizing that pretending to be in a relationship with Hook is anything but simplifying the situation.

Killian clears his throat, a little obnoxiously. She rolls her eyes at him, but he shoots her a look under his eyelashes that's conveys something along the lines of _this is what you wanted, isn't it?_ Emma accepts it for what it is, grabbing his hand and threading her fingers through his calloused ones.

If he's surprised by the gesture, he doesn't show it. He skims his thumb over her knuckles as if it's the most natural action in the world. She smiles at him, a wordless thank-you.

Emma clears her throat. "Because we have something, something worth...exploring."

If he makes a sailing pun right now, one she's willing to gamble involves pirates and hunting for treasure, she is going to hurt him. Fake relationship or not, maybe she can pass off strangling him as a gesture of affection. Thankfully, he swallows the remark that must be at the tip of his tongue. "Aye. I hardly think I've made my feelings for Emma entirely private."

"So you two are..?" Snow struggles to find an end of the question that doesn't somehow involve Emma and Killian being in a romantic relationship.

"Romantically entwined," Killian finishes for her, gripping Emma's hand just a little tighter. She squeezes back, just as a reassuring gesture.

"...Are you sure?" Snow follows up with, bafflingly.

Emma bites her tongue to prevent a sarcastic reply.

"Erm, quite sure," Hook replies, slowly, looking to Emma again.

She nods. "I don't know how we could...wander in here together and just accidentally announce us being together?"

Maybe she should have tried harder with the sarcastic comment suppression. Damn it.

Snow takes several deep breaths. "But, all the history that you and Neal have together. Henry must-"

She's grateful she at least has Killian in this, his steadiness beside her is keeping her oddly calm.

"With all due respect, your majesty," Killian starts and Emma almost dreads what is going to come out of his mouth. She tries to get his attention, to stop him from saying something stupid in a way that won't alert her parents and fails miserably. "I believe that's Emma's choice to make. Not mine, not Baelfire's, not Henry's, not yours...it's Emma's decision. Which I'll always revere, no matter what."

It's not as bad as she was predicting, with that opening line. It's almost exactly what she wanted to hear, really. Emma has tried to tell her parents over and over again to respect her choices in this, a choice that wasn't Neal, and here Killian was telling them exactly that.

As awkward and painful as this situation is, it could be going worse. No one has drawn their swords, yet, and that was a very valid concern as Emma was mentally preparing herself for this.

David has been suspiciously silent. Emma pleads with him with her eyes, for a moment, to please not push the Neal thing further and just accept this at face value.

"If you hurt her," he starts, instead, and this is _almost_ worse.

"And we're leaving," Emma says, sharply. She didn't go 28 years without an overprotective dad speech to get one now.

"Wasn't planning on it, Dave!" Killian calls out as Emma drags him by the hand out of the loft.

-/-

"Well, I think the worst part is over," Emma sighs, once they're out of the loft and heading back to his ship. "No one was hurt, for one. Mary Margaret didn't actually call Neal and have him make an appearance right then and there."

"Were you expecting either of those?" Killian asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I was fully prepared to deal with both of those, maybe at the same time," Emma says, grimly. "If there's anything I've learned from living in a town full of fairytale characters, it's to expect the absolute worst."

"I can't imagine many will be thrilled to hear the Savior has directed her affections towards a villainous pirate," he frowns, scratching the back of his ear in what Emma has come to recognize as an anxious habit. Or a gesture that - combined with lip tapping - insinuated that he would be open to kissing. Given his current expression, Emma thinks it's more of the first one.

Self-deprecation isn't something she's come to expect from Killian, even if sometimes she can see the cracks in his ego that show how lowly he thinks of himself.

"Really?" she hums, threading her arm through his in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture. "Because I can't imagine a better boyfriend for her. Offering his ship and offering to save her son, defeating a demented Peter Pan, coming back infatuated with each other...sounds like a pretty good love story to me."

"Aye," he answers, the corner of his lip turning upwards as they walk, "a good story."

Killian doesn't push it being more than that. She's come to be very, very grateful for that. Her feelings are a convoluted mess enough as they stand already, they don't need further complication by pressure.

(Take notes, Neal Fanclub.)

"Thank you, again," she says, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him, hand moving from his elbow to rest on his wrist, above the start of his hook. "For doing this. You didn't have to. You'd be right to reject this insane, weird idea. But you did it."

"Anything for you, Swan," he replies smoothly, trying to pass off the remark as flippant.

Emma has always been good at sniffing out liars, though, and with that comes the ability to detect sincerity.

She smiles at him, wordlessly, and walks with him back to his ship with her gloved hand wrapped around the curve of his hook.

-/-

Telling Henry that afternoon is something she's dreading even more. She can suffer her parents' disappointment, but her son's? Emma just crosses her fingers and hopes for the best. Killian asks her if she wants company in telling him. She tells him no.

This is a conversation she has to have with her son alone.

She waits at the loft - which is missing both of her parents - when Henry gets back home from school. Considering they just narrowly avoided a curse and he's spent days as Peter Pan's prisoner in Neverland, he's adjusting pretty well.

"What's going on?" Henry asks, eyes narrowing as he looks at Emma's anxious expression.

She's sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around herself, tapping her foot against the floor. "What? Nothing. Nothing is going on."

Henry looks disbelieving. "...Are you sure?"

This may have been easier if she had Killian here. "Yep."

"Is there another curse? Is Pan back?" Henry continues.

"Killian and I are seeing each other," Emma explains, finally.

"Oh," Henry says, looking confused and a little relieved. "And Killian is…?"

"Hook," Emma clarifies, quickly. Henry didn't know his real name, why would he? "I'm seeing Hook."

"So, no evil villain is trying to destroy everyone again?"

"No," she answers.

"Then why are you acting so weird?" Henry asks.

"I have no idea, kiddo," she exhales, standing up to hug her son. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Henry replies, easily. "Plus, that means your Captain Hook has to take me sailing now. Do you know how cool that is?"

Emma laughs into his hair.

-/-

Killian and Emma settle in a booth at Granny's the next day. Building up actual credence of them being in a relationship, with his arm draped over her shoulders and her nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Emma swears Ruby winks at her after she takes their order. It's good to see that it - whatever it is - seems to be working.

"How did your boy take the news?" Killian asks, once Ruby is out of earshot.

"Surprisingly well," she says with a shrug. "By the way I was acting, Henry was sure that there was another evil villain determined to bring everyone down, so he seemed a little relieved that it was just my love life."

"A villain in your love life," he points out, cheekily.

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, because you've been so villainous. You apparently owe Henry a sailing lesson, though. He wormed his way into that somehow."

Killian sighs, exaggeratedly. "How much I must suffer for your affections."

Emma gives him a doubtful look.

"I'd be happy to, regardless."

"There we go," Emma grins.

He matches her smile with one of his own. "The things a man is willing to do for love."

Ruby shakes her head as she walks up and sets their lunch down in front of them. "Get a room, you two."

"Oh, believe me, lass, we-"

Emma elbows him before he can finish the sentence. "Thanks, Ruby."

"I just wish that you two would've gotten together a week sooner," Ruby frowns, a little. "then I would have won the betting pool and Leroy-"

"Wait," Emma interrupts. "Did you just say betting pool?"

Killian looks endlessly satisfied. "Do I dare ask who was involved in said gambling?"

Ruby shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, guys. Granny won. Leroy and Victor were the other two involved, along with a handful of other dwarves. We thought it'd be easy money."

Emma gapes. "Are you serious?"

"Can I get a cut of the bounty, then?" Killian adds. Emma shoots him a dark look, but he looks nonplussed.

"Enjoy your food!" Ruby says, quickly, moving back to the counter.

Emma only grimaces. "Seriously?"

Killian leans in to steal one of her onion rings and she slaps his hand away, looking a little offended. "Hey!"

"Pirate, love," he replies, his arm still draped over his shoulder.

"Ugh," she groans. "This is really what I'm dealing with here, isn't it?"

"You're the one that decided that pirates were irresistible, love. One pirate in particular."

"I'm swooning," she deadpans.

He presses a kiss into her hair - all for the act - and chuckles.

-/-

Leroy shoots them both a dark look on their way to the Sheriff's station and Emma can only groan.

Ruby really wasn't kidding about the pool. Killian notices, if the shit-eating grin on his face is any indication.

"I'd suggest we practice public displays of affection to sell it more, love, but I think we've already done so," he grins jovially, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. "Given that I think our moment in Neverland was practice en-"

"You are such a pain in the ass sometimes, you know that?"

He chortles. "I'd believe you more if I hadn't noticed your eyes drifting towards it like a ship towards the shore."

She sputters in disbelief. "What does that even _mean?_ "

All he does is laugh at her even more, "I think you know quite well what I'm alluding to."

Okay, maybe he had a fair point, about the ass thing. The short jacket really exposed the - fine, and he's already laughing at her again.

"One day I'll kiss you just to shut you up," she grumbles.

"Aren't you just describing our first kiss?"

Emma rolls her eyes. "I'm going to work."

"I'll be anxiously awaiting the next time I see you," he replies, kissing her cheek as he walks away.

He's already mastered the small gestures, it seems. She presses her hand to the spot he kissed her, shaking her head.

-/-

It's a slow day, crime wise. Which means that a lot of it is spent avoiding the looks David gives her as they go through pages of paperwork.

"Nice weather outside, today," David tries.

Emma looks up from the work in front of her to meet his eyes. "It is, huh?"

He sighs, then, already tired of the stilted exchange. "Snow will come around, you know. She's just...it will take her some time to get used to the idea."

"Yeah, I think I got that by the fact that she's doing everything she can to avoid the subject," Emma grimaces. It's a slight move-up from constantly pressuring her about Neal, but it's still far from ideal. "I guess I couldn't really expect better."

"She just wants you to be happy. She thought that Neal would be a way of doing that, because we all know how you tend to push away happiness when you think it's for the greater good."

"Yeah, and I also have a habit of not doing what I want because I'm determined to live up to the people's expectations," Emma points out, a little bitterly. "And Snow's expectation of me and Neal...isn't what I want."

"Hook is what you want?" David asks, a little redundantly.

"Yeah," she answers, finally. "He's what I want."

"Then your mother and I will respect that no matter what," he nods.

The corner of her mouth quirks up, at that.

-/-

She still hasn't told Neal.

Emma isn't sure if there's a right way to do it, all things considered. He's her ex and they share a son, that doesn't mean he needs relationship updates from her. So, when she's at Granny's with Killian a few days later - in what has quickly become tradition - and she sees Neal at the counter, she kind of panics.

"Quick," Emma nudges Killian, "Kiss me."

"What?" Killian asks, oblivious and a little startled by the request.

"Kiss me," she repeats. If she's too afraid to tell Neal directly and awkwardly, maybe she can take care of it by doing this.

When all he does is look down at her, still bewildered, she takes matters into her own hands and tugs him by his collar down to her lips. They bump uncomfortably, for a minute, the motion much more jerky and unnatural than it was in Neverland, but eventually they seem to find their footing.

He is still a very, very good kisser.

They part, a beat later, and Emma's eyes flicker to where Neal just left, again.

"We're clear, now."

His eyes look at Neal's retreating back. "Aye, I see."

"Sorry that was," she gestures between them, "Sudden and weird. I should have asked for your okay first, I was just worried about - I didn't want to talk to Neal and I figured that might be easier."

"Of course," he says, still sounding a little out of it. "I understand completely. I don't see myself complaining about being kissed by you, Swan. In fact, the next time you ask, I can assure you I'll be much more alert and compliant-"

"You have lipstick on your face," she groans. "You might want to get that off."

"Right."

-/-

Emma sees Mary Margaret, again, at the loft. She's prepared for more forced small talk - last time it was about updating Storybrooke's street signs, bafflingly - but by the way her mother sits beside her on the couch, she guesses they might defy their latest tradition.

"So, you and Hook," Mary Margaret starts, cautiously.

"Me and Hook," Emma repeats, dubiously, dreading where Mary Margaret is going with this.

"You two are really together, aren't you?"

Emma sighs, trying her best to toe the line between firm and not being an asshole. "Yeah. We are."

"Sorry," Snow says, quickly. "I know, I know. I just thought that you and Neal...now I see I shouldn't have been so forceful about it. You aren't the girl you were eleven years ago. I can't expect you to be. I guess I just thought because I fought for my first love, with David, that you would be the same as me."

Emma frowns. "Just because he was my first love…"

"Doesn't mean he should be your last," Mary Margaret finishes. "I know. I get that, now. And I see the way you two look at each other. It's the same way David and I do. He really loves you, Emma. And I know you feel the same way about him."

They must be a hell of a pair of actors. Emma swallows at that, hard.

Her voice breaks, wavering, when she says, "We do."

Her mother seems to take it for more being overcome by emotion than guilt.

"Are you happy?" Snow asks, after a pregnant pause.

Emma thinks about her reply, for a minute. Thinks about - in spite of how incredibly complex pretending to be in a relationship with Captain Hook is - how for the first time in what seems like forever, she isn't constantly looking over her shoulder and worrying about the next big bad. She isn't worrying about being pushed into something she doesn't want. It's like a heavy burden has been lifted from her shoulders.

"Yeah," she answers, not being dishonest in the slightest. "I am."

"Then that's all I care about," Mary Margaret replies, setting her hand on Emma's from across the coffee table.

It'll be nice to have a relationship with her mother that isn't reliant on her being the savior or what she should or shouldn't want, too. Now, she just might.

-/-

Killian offers to take her sailing, the next night. Henry is at Regina's that night, or else - as he assures her - he'd be more than welcome to join.

"I thought it'd be prudent to welcome you aboard when no lives are in peril," Killian grins as he welcomes her on board.

"I always liked boats," Emma hums.

Killian clears his throat, pointedly.

"Ships," she corrects herself with an exaggerated groan. "I've always liked ships."

He sits down in the middle of the deck, once she's on it, looking up at her expectantly.

"What are you doing?"

"Sit," he instructs, patting a spot on the deck of the Jolly right next to him.

"What are _we_ doing?"

"Stargazing," he answers, as if it's the most natural answer in the world.

Emma muffles a laugh. Of course they are. He may pretend to be a tough pirate, but underneath all that he's one of the biggest romantics she's ever met.

Killian tells her the traditional stories that seem to transcend realms - Orion, Cassiopeia, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. He also has a few unique ones up his sleeve, but she isn't sure if that's because he's bullshitting them or if they're from the Enchanted Forest. It could be both.

(She really has to introduce him to the NASA archives, sometime. He'd have a field day.)

Still, it works. She props her head on his shoulder and let's his voice soothe her.

Emma has no idea how she expects this whole 'fake dating' thing to end. At this point, she doesn't know if she wants it to.

-/-

The next day, this becomes even more apparent.

"We're courting, aren't we?" Killian raises an eyebrow, waiting for her to answer in the affirmative.

"Dating," she corrects, "but, yeah. We are pretending to date."

"Then I believe it's custom in your world for me to take you to dinner."

"You don't have to -"

"I want to," he insists. "That is, if you're comfortable with that. I won't push any more than what you're willing to accept."

It does sound a little nice. A break from all the madness of the past few weeks, going out to dinner with someone who looks at her like she's the whole world and more. Who is smart and protective and - in his own words - devilishly handsome.

(It makes for good show, is what she amends that line of thought as. That's all she can afford.)

(Especially for someone who literally _calls himself_ devilishly handsome, Jesus Christ.)

-/-

So they go to dinner.

Emma digs out a pink dress from the back of her closet and puts her hair up. David and Snow take pictures as if it's her senior prom (which is mortifying and wistful all at once). She doesn't know how he manages to find a fancy Italian place in Storybrooke, of all places, especially when he's much newer to the town (this realm) than she is. Emma is the sheriff, she's supposed to know these things.

Her slight frustration with herself is broken when he admits that he remembered something about her liking pasta from when they were doing one of their rapid-fire, let's make our fake relationship more believable by knowing meaningless trivia about each other, sessions. It's odd that he remembered it.

Odd, but thoughtful. Killian Jones is a continuous mystery.

(Even if she knows his favorite color is sea foam green - for obvious reasons - and he's grown fond of having more leisure time to read all the books of this realm, even if it means he has to have uncomfortable conversations with a grieving Belle in order to do it.)

(Maybe those trivia sessions really did work miracles.)

They have a good night, she would say. They even kiss at the end of the night and, as much as she would claim it's for show, there's no one that can see them by the door at the loft.

Emma lets her back hit the door when he tells her goodnight, telling herself that she's completely and utterly fucked.

-/-

The next night, she holds up a bag from Granny's as she asks for permission to come aboard.

"I thought we could maybe do the constellation thing, again," she says with a meek smile. "If you have any more stories."

"I have as many as there are stars in the sky," he answers with a grin of his own, holding out his hand for her to take as she gets on board.

And it's normal and it's easy, for a while. It's strange how this has become normal - dinner with Captain Hook as he mutters stories into her hair.

(But it's not real, of course. It can't be.)

Killian is in the middle of discussing Polaris' infallibility in leading a sailor back home when he turns to her, suddenly, looking as if he's warring with himself. "Who are we acting for, this time?"

Her face falls.

"There's no one else around," she explains, cautiously. "I just wanted to...I don't know what I wanted."

There's a tense silence between the two of them for a long moment. They both stand, reluctantly, unsure of what else to do.

"I have to be honest with you, which I fear I haven't been doing," Killian states, uncharacteristically deflated.

"Killian, what are you saying?" Emma asks, confused by the sudden change of tone.

He only shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips. "I thought that I could participate in the show - supposed it would be easy enough to pass my genuine feelings as ingenuine,"

Her mouth parts in realization, heart dropping to the pit of her stomach

When she doesn't reply for a long moment, he continues. "Perhaps we should just go back how we were before - how was it you put it - reluctant allies?"

Emma should nod. Emma should nod and agree and thank whatever higher power was out there that Killian is being so understanding about exactly what she should do, needs to do. That he's giving her a way out. Her parents will be happy with the news that their fake relationship is over, Henry will act less betrayed that she's not getting back together with his dad, things could be simpler.

Things could go exactly back to square one.

But wasn't this whole thing brought on by the fact that she kept on pushing away what she wanted to do in the name of what she thought she needed to do? That Emma spent so long sidelining her own feelings and desires in the name of doing the Right Thing? Even this, a way she was supposed to get it both ways and evade Neal, not tell her parents the truth. Hell, maybe this entire time she was trying not to be selfish she did just that. After all, this way Emma got all the positives of exploring a relationship with Killian without any of the risks of rejection or heartbreak.

Even that line of thought meets at a dead end - she gets just that result when Killian decides - rightly - that he's tired of playing show pony.

(Congratulations, Emma. You managed to hurt both of you! Truly, the savior of the damned and the hurt feelings.)

Emma bites on her lip, hard, tensing up and staring down at the wood of his ship.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he tries to say the words lightly and fails. "Nothing to worry about, Swan. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

She nods, at that, hoping it indicates understanding rather than disappointment. It's not fair for her to be disappointed. It wasn't fair for her to ask him of this in the first place. She has an entire, self-deprecating list of _Things Emma Isn't Supposed To Feel Yet Still Does Despite Best Efforts_ queued up in her brain and ready to accompany her on her walk from his ship back to the loft.

As Emma turns around to leave, she gets started with number one: you weren't supposed to actually develop feelings for Captain fucking Hook. Then, she turns back around.

"You told me I would have to make a choice," she starts, swallowing hard and summoning every ounce of bravery in her body, "in Neverland."

"Love, you don't owe me-"

"You were right," Emma exhales. "I do. And I choose me."

His eyes close shut, his expression trying (and failing) to look anything but disappointed. "Of course."

"But," she continues, hand coming up to rest on his jaw. "I choose me _and_ finding out what the hell is between the two of us, for real. Because I don't think I can delude myself into thinking it's nothing, anymore."

His expression is unreadable. "What do you mean?"

"Let's do this. What we've already been doing. Going out for dinner, holding hands, goodnight kisses...let's do this. No pretending, just us."

He grins, then, dimples protruding and smile bright. "My love, I think that's the best idea you've had since Pan vanished."

She beams back at him, leaning up on her toes to kiss him and wrap her hands in his hair and the ridiculous leather collar he always has perking straight up. He reciprocates fully, passionately, and it means all the more that they're not doing it for an audience, this time.

"Just you and me, hm?" he murmurs as they part, hand sweeping her long bangs out of her face.

"Yeah," she replies, fondly, gently bumping her forehead against his. "Just us."


End file.
